I was chasing a butterfly when I noticed a small ball of feathers nestled in the grass near the treeline.
My heart sank. "Please," I prayed. "Please don't let that be a dead bird. I can't handle a dead bird. Please God."
Despite my fears or perhaps because of them, I took a step closer and that was when I noticed that the bird had tucked his head under his wing and that his tiny chest was rising and falling as he breathed.
For the past six months, I have gotten to know the birds at Hope. All of them have relative levels of comfort around me, some fleeing immediately the second I move, or like the osprey, screeching and taking flight as soon as I leave the car. Others watch and wait. But none let me as close as this bird. He wasn't dead, and I was grateful, but I worried he was sick.
"Hey," I whispered to him. "Are you okay?"
He raised his head and blinked at me, like he was a child I had woken too early for school.
"Are you okay?" I asked again, and began snapping pictures as he blinked. I told him how beautiful he was as I began to think of having to call someone to get help for this bird.
But a few more seconds passed, and the bird turned to his left and hopped/fluttered away, behaving exactly as I had watched his cousins and brothers and sisters behave over the last few months.
Not dead. Not ill. Just sleeping.
I laughed--I was so relieved. Just sleeping. Sometimes our worst fears are confirmed, and sometimes they fly away on the wings of bird.
My heart sank. "Please," I prayed. "Please don't let that be a dead bird. I can't handle a dead bird. Please God."
Despite my fears or perhaps because of them, I took a step closer and that was when I noticed that the bird had tucked his head under his wing and that his tiny chest was rising and falling as he breathed.
For the past six months, I have gotten to know the birds at Hope. All of them have relative levels of comfort around me, some fleeing immediately the second I move, or like the osprey, screeching and taking flight as soon as I leave the car. Others watch and wait. But none let me as close as this bird. He wasn't dead, and I was grateful, but I worried he was sick.
"Hey," I whispered to him. "Are you okay?"
He raised his head and blinked at me, like he was a child I had woken too early for school.
"Are you okay?" I asked again, and began snapping pictures as he blinked. I told him how beautiful he was as I began to think of having to call someone to get help for this bird.
But a few more seconds passed, and the bird turned to his left and hopped/fluttered away, behaving exactly as I had watched his cousins and brothers and sisters behave over the last few months.
Not dead. Not ill. Just sleeping.
I laughed--I was so relieved. Just sleeping. Sometimes our worst fears are confirmed, and sometimes they fly away on the wings of bird.
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